by Scott McCord
Gas struggles to his knees, trying to recover his trousers, thinking the joke is done…but it’s not. With an open palm and every ounce of strength I have, I slap him hard enough on the butt-cheek to sting my hand. The whack echoes off the trees, leaving a red handprint that doesn’t look like it will fade any time soon. Gas wails, and the field erupts with laughter. Tommy trots up for a better look, howling, like my handprint on his friend’s big white butt is the funniest thing he’s ever seen. He’s nearly to tears when Knox sneaks up behind him and rips his pants to the ground. Knox stands on the crotch and shoulders Tommy onto Gas. Gas roars as his bare-assed teammate tangles him up. I cock my hand to put a butt slap on Tommy, but he spins around to protect himself, and ends up sitting on Gas’s face. The sidelines scream with delight. I double over, laughing, stumbling back to sit in the grass before someone decides to pants me too. I don’t care who wins the game anymore.
“All right,” Starter says as we all begin to recover, “somebody get the ball so we can finish.”
Thatcher takes off, skip-limping past the skinny maple, out toward the berry bushes to retrieve the ball.
“Everybody up!” Tommy calls us together for a midgame conference while we wait for Thatch. “New rules. No more yanking pants down.”
“And no more fanny-blasters,” Gas adds rubbing his backside. “That really stung. I won’t be able to sit for two days.”
I snort.
“It’s not funny, God knows how long I’ll have your paw print on my lily-white.”
I shake my head and smile, trying to keep from laughing out loud. “What do you say, Knox?”
“I guess.” He shrugs.
“Okay then, no pantsing and no butt-busters,” I agree.
We turn to watch Thatcher on his way back, and the meadow goes silent for the first time since we started to play. A slight breeze dips in, but the berry bushes on the far side aren’t quite in harmony with the wind.
“Tommy?” I say.
“I see it,” he answers. “Starter, the game is done. Very quietly, and very quickly move the men inside the tree-line.”
“There it is again,” I say.
“There what is?” Starter asks.
“Not sure yet,” Tommy answers, “but you need distance, so move the men now.”
Starter looks to me. “We’ll get Thatch.” He hesitates. “This is why I’m here,” I say.
He doesn’t want to pull back, but Starter takes his men anyway, leaving Tommy, Gas, and me in the meadow, waiting on our buddy with the dangerball.
8
Will
“Gas,” Tommy says, not taking his eyes off the far side of the field, “you need to go with Starter. This is no place for a slow-poke like you.”
“Come on,” I mutter, watching Thatcher hobble our way. It takes him forever to find the ball, and now he’s dwindled down to a heavy limp. He’s nearly midway back, but even with a head start, no way he outruns whatever is in those bushes. He doesn’t even know he’s in trouble. “Come on, Thatch,” I repeat under my breath.
“We have to go get him, Will. He’s never going to make it.”
“I know,” I say.
A slow moment passes. Tommy and I find our legs and trot out to meet the crippled dangerballer. I feel like sprinting, but we don’t. We jog out, like everything is cool and we’re just going for a casual talk with our friend. No use in provoking something that may be faster than we are.
“Where’s everybody going?” Thatcher asks, as Tommy and I come to a stop.
“We have a problem,” Tommy answers, staring into the thick underbrush at the far edge of the field.
“Slitters?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Hey, no offense, but we need to give you a lift. Drop the ball.”
Thatcher hisses with disgust. “I can’t leave it.”
He barely gets the words out of his mouth before Tommy snatches the dangerball from his hands, and steps into a booming punt back over Gas’s head, toward the Scorpions waiting at the tree-line. It bounces twice and Boone runs out to get it.
“What did you do that for?”
“Tell you later,” Tommy says, “right now, arms across our shoulders and legs up. Alley-oop. Let’s go.”
Thatcher’s face contorts in bewilderment, but he drapes his arms over us and raises his legs anyway. We hook him around his thighs, lifting him to a sitting position. Tommy is on one side, and I’m on the other, with Thatcher dangling between us in a two-man litter. We can run now.
One step, two steps—crash! The earth trembles hard enough to make me stumble! It’s like the sky is breaking apart and falling into the meadow behind us in huge chunks. A bone-shaking roar rattles the forest. Scorpions retreat into the trees like frightened children, swearing and cursing as they go. Only my idiot friend, Gas, stands frozen, about the same place we agreed not to pull each other’s pants down. Tommy and I try to pick up speed, but Thatcher’s sweat makes him slippery, and my feet feel like they’re sewn to the ground. Thatcher is screaming. A quick glimpse back and terror strikes like lightning, sending its charge tingling through my body. The biggest animal I’ve ever seen is in full gallop, making very short work of the distance between us.
“Oh shit, oh shit!”
We move like a hobbled goat. It’s too fast! Thundering footfalls are nearly on top of us when I stumble, and we all go to the ground.
“Up, up, up!” Tommy shouts, grabbing at Thatch.
I’m on my feet trying to pull Thatcher’s arm back over my shoulder. “Come on, come on!” I yell.
Tommy and I may have a chance alone, but there’s no way we’ll make it carrying our crippled buddy. We hoist him and keep going, frantic, expecting to be run down and mauled into shredded meat at any moment. I’m afraid to look back again as I churn over the grass, awkward and fumbling, like I’m in some sort of desperate three-legged race. We’re almost there.
“Hurry! Hurry!” The Scorpions call from their hiding places in the trees. They move out to receive us as we collapse in their arms. Two guys drag Thatch to cover, and I try to catch enough breath to swallow my spit. Tommy turns to the side and pukes.
“Damn,” Starter says, as I blink the sweat from my eyes. “He saved all of you.”
“What?” I pant.
“It chased him instead.”
Tommy moves up beside me, wiping his mouth with his wrist, to see what Starter is talking about.
“I’ve never seen a big guy run so fast.” Starter shakes his head. “I have no idea what we’re going to do now. He can’t stay up there forever.”
“Shit!” I exclaim.
“Where’s a bow? Give me a bow!” Tommy yells. He snatches one away from a Scorpion and grabs an arrow before Knox and Boone wrestle him down. Tommy yowls to break free. “Let me go! Get off me, Knox! I have to get him. I have to get him now!” he screams from the ground.
Out in the field, shimmied up the scrawny maple, Gas teeters just out of the bear’s reach. The beast is humongous, easily twelve feet tall, making Gas look like a toy by comparison. This is not a regular bear, this is a monster-bear, and I doubt an arrow will do much more than piss it off.
“We need a lance,” Starter barks. “Get me a lance.” Knox and Boone keep Tommy pinned to the ground, but everyone else scurries into the trees in search of a suitable pole to sharpen. “Move your asses! We don’t have much time.”
Starter is right, we don’t have much time. The beast is on its hind legs, steadying itself against the tree, swiping at Gas’s feet. If it gets a claw in him, it’ll drag Gas to the ground and there’ll be nothing left of my friend but bear shit and bone. If that lance doesn’t get here fast, I’ll have to take a bow and do my best to draw the monster away.
Pop!
My stomach jumps to my throat. I don’t know if that’s the tree trunk giving way under the bear’s weight, or the limb Gas is standing on cracking beneath his feet, either way, we’re out of time. We can’t wait for a lance.
; “Let him up. Let him up, Knox!” I order, but Boone and Knox don’t release Tommy until Starter gives them the sign. Tommy rolls to his feet without brushing himself off. He comes to my side and crouches, staring out at the beast waiting for Gas to drop.
“All our stuff is still out there. We need bows and quivers,” I say.
Starter signals, and two Scorpions hand us theirs.
“Okay Tommy, go quick and flank right. I’ll try to move him off with a couple of shots, but we’ll both need to cover Gas when he makes his break.”
“I’m ready,” Tommy says.
I turn to Starter. “Get everybody up here. If we actually make it this far, we’ll have a monster on our asses. You’ll have to rain every arrow you have in that thing as soon as it’s in range. No way to kill it, but maybe you can back it off.”
“Got it,” Starter says. He looks to Boone. “Round everybody up.”
I take a deep breath, blowing the air out through my mouth to calm my nerves. “You ready?” Tommy nods. “Let’s go,” I say, but as we start to move into the clearing, another bear emerges from the trees. It strides with immense power and grace along the berry bushes on the far side, before turning to join its mate under the tree. It’s not happy to find Gas there. The new bear roars at the first, complaining about the man in the branches above. The first bear thunders back as if to say, ‘I’m doing the best I can.’
Crack! Another limb snaps, and both bears look up.
9
Mim
The Middle Ground markers look like they were put up by somebody who really didn’t want the job. We passed them and crossed into Community territory two hundred yards ago. I shush the boys as they compete to see who can bag the most imaginary animals with their blow guns. We have to be quiet.
I know we shouldn’t be here, but this is where the berry bushes are, and I certainly didn’t expect to run into anybody else. It doesn’t take long to get what we came for. The Scorpions are considerate enough to bag the fruit and leave it conveniently stacked, unguarded, before starting their inane game of grab-ass dangerball. We’ve confiscated four sacks, and since Scorpions are too stupid to count, they’ll probably blame each other when they come up short. Those idiots will never even know we were here, and that’s the way it has to stay.
It’s time to leave, but Rosie and the boys beg me to let them watch some of the game. I’m reluctant, but agree, so we keep low and out of sight as the rowdy match plays out on the other side of the clearing.
Jeremy and Ben root for Starter’s team, Rosie pulls for Will’s side because of the crippled goalie, and I’m having a hard time with the whole thing. The sight of my best friends in the woods with the crimson and black burns me up. Tommy hates Scorpions and Gas is supposed to be a builder, so I’m sure Will dragged them both into this. I bet Ellie isn’t happy.
We watch Will try to tackle Gas, rip his trousers down, and slap him on the butt. The kids giggle and snort, and when Tommy gets pushed on top, they have to look away to keep from giving up our position. It’s good to hear them laugh, and I’m sorry it’s cut short when Will’s keeper retrieves his ball within feet of our hiding place. He hobbles away without a second glance.
“Okay, that was too close, time to go,” I whisper. Sighs of disappointment return. “We have to be careful, they have some good scouts over there, one of them trained by Jonathan…so leave no trace.” The kids nod, and we begin to slide away just as the first bear appears.
Holy crap! I can’t believe I let that thing get so close. We instantly melt to the forest floor, motionless, hoping the behemoth with claws doesn’t notice the berry thieves in the bushes. The monster lingers a moment, then charges off into the meadow like thunder drifting over the horizon. I stay down until it’s safe to look up, and when I do, Will and Tommy are collapsing at the far tree-line with the crippled goalie between them, and Gas is in a tree with a giant bear below. Gas is the biggest person I know, but he’s tiny next to the animal underneath. He won’t be able to stay out of reach for long.
“Come on, Will,” I mutter. “You’ve got the troops, go get our friend.” My mind races without landing on any way to save Gas myself. Pop! A limb gives way, but Gas holds on. He’s not calling for help—he wouldn’t do that. “Hurry, Will, hurry.”
A guttural snarl chills my blood as a huge shadow sweeps along the bushes where we’re hiding. We duck our heads, bury our faces, and will ourselves invisible, as another mammoth bear joins its mate. The beasts greet each other in a terrifying duet that rumbles over us and back through the forest. I nock an arrow and push to my knees, but Rosie grabs my bow and shakes her head.
“That’s the King and the Queen,” she whispers. “Jonathan says they can’t be killed, and if you wound one, they’ll rain hell all over the Utugi. It’s best to let them do what they do and avoid them.”
“There’s no avoiding them today, Rosie.”
“Those people are Community. Jonathan says let them take care of their own.”
“I can’t do that. Let go of my bow.”
She shakes her head. “You’re going to get us killed.”
“No, you three get out of here. As soon as you’re clear, I’ll put an arrow through that damn thing’s eye socket.”
“When those guys see you, and everybody in Community knows you’re alive, what happens then? They come after you…hunt you down…hunt us down. And if you wound one of those bears before they tear you in half, they’ll raid our camp every night looking for an easy meal, because one of them is too injured to find food on its own. No, Mim, you can’t do that. It’s better to let the Scorpion die.”
I twist my bow away from her, knowing she’s right. She is horribly pragmatic…just like my dad…just like me.
Crack! Another one of Gas’s limbs snaps, and both bears look up.
“But if it means that much to you…” Rosie smiles and turns back to Jeremy and Ben. “You guys want to pop the King and the Queen?”
“Are you kidding? That would be awesome.” Jeremy beams.
“Hell yeah, I want to zap the King.” Ben grins.
“You guys have enough of Mary’s stingers?”
“My pouch is full of double-dips,” Ben says.
“Really?”
“What’s the point of carrying anything but magnums?” Jeremy adds.
“Rosie, what are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing that hasn’t been done before. The older guys usually run the King and Queen off when they get too close to camp. It’s a rite of passage. Now we get our chance.” She turns to Ben and Jeremy. “You guys carry double-stingers all the time?” They nod. “And Mary lets you?”
They shake their heads. “She doesn’t know,” Jeremy answers.
“So you’re always loaded for bear.”
The boys smile and nod. “Literally,” Ben says.
“Good for us today. All right, I’m going down this bush-line to draw the royals off.”
“You’re going to do what?” I whisper-shout.
Rosie glares at me. “You’re not the only one your dad trained. I’ll be fine.” She turns back to the boys. “I’ll pull them in right over there so they’ll have a clear escape. Set yourselves up with your blow guns off the edge of the bushes. We’ll need all the fire power we can get, so don’t shoot until I’m back. You have enough darts for me?”
“Plenty,” Ben says.
Rosie smiles. She’s having the time of her life being in charge of something so important and so dangerous. “No matter what else happens, stay out of sight. If the King or Queen sees us, we’re dead.”
I don’t like this at all. We’re supposed to be foraging, not rescuing Scorpions from trees, not risking new friends for old ones. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” I whisper.
“Me too,” she whispers back.
“We’re out the moment those bears are gone, understand?”
Rosie nods.
“I’ll wait here in case things go bad. I’m not sure what the Scorpion
s will do once the field is clear, but if they come, I’ll drop as many as I can.”
Rosie gives me a grim smile and for the first time, seems scared. She reaches for a berry bag. “All right, boys,” she says, “grab a sack each and follow me.”
“Good luck,” I whisper as the children disappear around a clump of brush. They slide away smooth as serpents, leaving me alone to wait and wonder why Will hasn’t done anything to help Gas.
10
Will
“Holy shit,” Knox breathes.
“Two bears,” Tommy mutters to himself.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, “two of them—two of us.”
“Will,” Gas calls from his perch in the tree, “I think it’s time for you guys to go. Mama’s here now and she’s not happy with me screwing up her shade. This twig isn’t going to hold much longer, and there’s no sense in people getting hurt that don’t have to. I can probably kick both their asses all by myself, anyway.”
“Hang on, buddy, we’re coming,” Tommy calls back.
I squeeze my bow, adjust my quiver, and move up a couple of steps. I look at Tommy. “On three,” I say. He nods and cocks his body, set to sprint into the field on my count.
“Hold up.” Starter catches my arm. “Two is too many.” I glare at him, anticipating an order to stand down—an order he knows I won’t obey. “So we all four go. Two teams, same plan, just doubled up.” He drops my arm. “Knox,” he barks, “grab a bow.”
Knox fetches a bow and returns quickly. “What’s the plan again?” He gulps.
“Don’t get eaten,” Tommy answers without a smile. “Starter is with Will, so it’s you and me, Knoxy. Stay on my heels and do what I tell you, when I tell you. Make a mistake, and we’re bear shit…so no pulling my pants down this time.”